The dentist oversold the pain, thankfully. My jaw hurts down deep, like someone hit me, but the teeth themselves feel OK. I can live with this. I generally appreciate pessimism from my medical team.
You’re picturing me being hit in the jaw now. That’s OK.
I wonder how much mercury I swallowed yesterday. Hmm.
My dentist’s lead assistant will be a character in my first novel. Tall, kinda hot, older, heavy Chicago accent, a pronounced limp, and what looked like a prison tattoo of an eye on her neck.
I’m cutting off my hair. It’s just not working. Too much is gone from the front and top already and I look like a sad, old guy overcompensating in the back. (Not a euphemism.) I’ll keep it until after Halloween because it’ll work for the costume, then arrivederci.
I volunteered to help a friend with a project and it’s overwhelming. I can’t really talk about it because it’s a corporate gig, secret, etc. But OMG, so much. I should be working on it now instead of typing this foolishness.